


Chasing Sunflowers

by TheHappinessTheory



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, DBD, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Minor Character Death, and permadeath not dbd style, im writing this for me but you guys can read it if you like
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-17 03:47:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29465232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheHappinessTheory/pseuds/TheHappinessTheory
Summary: Lola Withers wakes up in the Entity's Realm, whisked away into a horror show at the behest of her Roseville stalker. Learning to survive in her new reality, Lola finds herself enjoying the company of her would-be-murderer.
Relationships: Ghostface (Scream)/Original Character(s), Ghostface (Scream)/Original Female Character(s), Michael Myers/Laurie Strode, Trapper/Dwight
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	1. Into the Unknown

She didn’t know how she had gotten here, or where ‘ _here’_ truly was. Time and the world had forgotten her as her feet trudged endlessly onward through the thick fog. Half-dead trees loomed above and around her, barely more than dark silhouettes against a gentle moon’s light that didn’t seem to have a source. 

She cursed as her heel caught on a root and she stumbled forward but managed to catch herself before it was too late. She tugged the white iridescent fur coat tighter around herself, though strangely she felt no cold despite the dying leaves that littered the ground, and the wind which ruffled the branches of the trees. 

_Where am I?_ She wondered as she stopped and looked around. 

The last thing she could recall… it took her a moment. Eyes squeezed shut in deep, critical thought. Hiking wasn’t a foreign hobby to her, but she wouldn’t be purposely out hiking in such an impractical outfit, let alone something so revealing in the middle of fall. 

She looked down at herself, at the fur coat, the black leather bra under the mesh top; gold necklaces dangling from her neck, a short splayed black skirt and fishnet leggings that attached to the pantyhose. Her boots were tall and leather with shining white laces that matched her thick white belt. 

Why was she dressed like this? It wasn’t out of her taste, but it wasn’t exactly a walking-around-the-woods type outfit. She had been in the city last… She remembered walking down the sidewalk to… what had been her destination? She had been crossing the street – had she gotten hit by a car? Where were the injuries? She felt no pain. But how would getting hit by a car explain how she ended up in the middle of the forest with no cellphone. 

_My name…._ She suddenly thought . _What is my name_ _?_ She couldn’t squelch the sickly feeling of panic that rose in her throat before she hugged herself tighter and furrowed her thick brows. 

_Lola._ She suddenly remembered. _My name is Lola Withers. I am a… I work at…_ She frowned. What was her job? She looked once more at her apparel hoping it would help her remember, but she drew a blank. Yet… she remembered every other aspect of her life perfectly. She lived in a high-rise apartment downtown and her social life was remarkable though she didn’t have any friends close enough to consider them true confidants. 

She could feel the anxiety that whirled within her chest, threatening to grow and overwhelm her. Lola was usually pretty good with keeping a level head, but the situation she was in was precarious. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d woken up somewhere and not remembered how she got there, but it was never alone and never in the middle of the woods. 

Lola felt as though she had been walking for hours. The ground was soft, mud sucking in her heels every few steps and causing her to put in double the effort just to walk. Strangely though, there was no soreness in her thighs despite the tedious efforts she’d been making. Nor did she grow hungry or thirsty, nor too cold or too hot. 

Fuck… she hadn’t been at a party. She hadn’t been drinking and she stayed away from the hardcore drugs. She’d no wounds to suggest she had been attacked. Yet how was she ever to explain… this? 

After what felt like an eternity of muttering and paying close attention to the ground, looking out for roots to avoid, counting leaves – anything to keep her mind from panicking, she finally spotted a faint orange glow up ahead. A… campfire, maybe? 

She wanted to sprint to it in relief and call for help, but her self-preservation also had her pausing. The campfire could be innocent strangers, or whoever it was that brought her out here in the middle of nowhere. 

Lola carefully approached the fire, scanning the clearing for any sign of who was there. There was no tent or camper, not even a car. Just a large campfire with three logs situated around it, another patch of trees not too far on the other side. Long grass and what looked like flowers were sprouted near the cobblestones that lined the edge of the flames, and she could make out what seemed like three figures gathered around, seeming in deep conversation with each other. 

She eyed them carefully, spotting two women and one man. They had no provisions, nor did Lola spot any phones or bags. It didn’t seem like they had any weapons either, but who came out here without being prepared? Unless… she wasn’t the only one dropped off in the middle of the woods with no memory of how she got there. 

Stepping out of the fog, Lola slowly walked towards the campfire, making sure her movements were slow and obvious as to not spook anyone. “Hello?” She gently called ahead, her arms wrapped around her middle. 

The three stranger’s faces immediately snapped in her direction, eyes sizing her up in surprise before the man and one of the women, an Asian woman with short black hair, turned back to each other and whispered something. 

“Hello… again…” Lola said, approaching the fire. “Can… anyone tell me what’s going on?” 

A woman with long red-blonde hair tied into twin braids stood from the log and took several steps towards Lola. “You’re awfully calm,” she said with an awkward laugh. 

“Uhm… Yeah I just try not to let myself panic about things, you know? I’m good at keeping myself in check.” She shuffled her feet awkwardly. “Are you guys…? Do you know where we are? How we got here?” 

“Oh boy…” The man sighed, running his hands through his short dark hair. “If she’s here… that means those sadistic fucks probably got a new teammate, too.” 

Lola arched an eyebrow, her heart skipping at the mention of sadistic people nearby. “Teammate? I’m sorry,” she said, raising her hands chest level and giving an incredulous smile. “I don’t understand what’s going on. Where are we? Did you bring me here?” 

“Here,” the woman gently placed a hand on Lola’s arm but she jerked away. 

She could feel the pounding of her heart against her ribs, thrumming through her whole body. Was it good or extremely bad that these people didn’t seem panicked in the slightest way? 

“It’s a little hard to explain. Impossible to believe, really,” the woman said. “Look, I’m Meg,” she placed a hand over her chest as she introduced herself, then Lola watched as her hand extended to the people sitting behind her. “That’s Feng,” she said, pointing to the other woman, “and that’s David.” She turned back to Lola. “And you are?” 

“Still wanting to know what the fuck is going on,” Lola responded. 

David let out a deep, irritated sigh and stood up, shaking his head. “I don’t really have the patience to explain this again. Not like they ever believe it anyways. I’m going to go scrounge up for some offerings.” 

Lola wondered what he meant by _any_ of those words, especially what _offerings_ meant. Her calm and collected manner was sentence by sentence shattering into full-blown panic, though no one looking at her would be able to tell. _Keep calm,_ she reminded herself. _People who panic make stupid decisions. Keep your head, keep focused._ Her father was a survivalist and had taken her with him on less dangerous expanses, making sure that if she ever found herself in a situation just like this, she would know how to keep herself alive until she could get help. 

“This place…” Meg started a little apprehensively. “You are – well, _we…”_ She sighed and Lola watched as her eyes swiveled and bit her lip, searching through her own vocabulary to try and properly explain the situation. “Everyone here…” 

“Is dead,” Feng input without hesitation. 

Lola felt like someone had slapped her in the face. It took her a moment to process the words as Meg turned on her. “We don’t know that,” she chided. 

Feng rolled her eyes. 

“Is this the part where a crew comes out and tells me I’m being pranked?” Lola inquired with a quirked eyebrow. 

“How long have you been walking?” Meg suddenly asked. 

The quickness of the question caught Lola off guard and she took a moment to think about it. Her brow furrowed and her shook her head slightly, dyed teal locks of her bobbed hair coming into her view. “It… felt like a long time, but I haven’t seen any sign of the change of day. The moon hasn’t moved….” 

“And have you been hungry? Thirsty? Tired?” 

Lola regarded her very carefully, their blue eyes locked on each other and Lola started to debate the implications of her words. Her eyes, for a brief moment, drifted from Meg to look at Feng, remembering the words she had spoken. Looking back to Meg, she said, as calmly as she could manage. “So, I’m… dead?” 

Did she believe that? It was such an outlandish theory that perhaps that was the only thing stopping her brain from fully processing the meaning of those words. 

“No!” Meg quickly interjected. “At least… I don’t think so. In no ways anyone can prove,” she said, casting Feng a sharp glare. 

“You’re just mad because you bled out last trial.” 

“You had ample opportunity to reach me and heal me. The Oni was all the way on the other side of the farm!” She took a moment to take a deep breath. “But that doesn’t matter.” 

“A farm,” Lola repeated. “Are there people there? Telephone wires? A working signal?” 

Meg sighed again and Feng picked a stick from the ground and stoking the fire in lazy attempts to stifle her clear boredom with the conversation. Jesus… how did someone show such little empathy? At least she had stuck around, unlike that David fellow. 

“Look, I-” 

“Ask who she brought with her,” Feng said without taking her eyes off the fire. 

Lola tilted her head to the side. Though she kept her expression neutral, the irritation was clear in her voice. “You know you could ask me what you want directly. I’m _right_ here.” 

Feng met her gaze for a brief moment and then shrugged, sagging her shoulders and leaning on her knees. “Your life, back home – was there anything… strange happening? A killer on the loose, maybe?” 

“No, I-” Lola’s voice cut off abruptly. 

“Yes?” Meg asked. 

“Well I…” Lola tried to shrug casually. There _had_ been a killer. Someone terrorizing the town. The Ghostface, they called him, but Lola couldn’t see how that was involved with her. “I had a stalker. Used to send me letters in the mail… send pictures they had taken of me. Police couldn’t find him.” 

Feng sighed and threw the stick into the fire. “Great. Another stalker.” 

Lola closed her eyes and released a deep breath. “Look, can someone just _please_ tell me what’s going on? Even if it sounds utterly ridiculous I just need _something_.” 

“We don’t know where we are,” Meg started to explain. “All we know is that it’s the Entity’s Realm.” She held up a hand to silence Lola before she could interject with an immediate question. “All we know is that it doesn’t exist in the world we’re used to. Its… some sort of god, we think. It demands trials and… and blood and sacrifices. Its… it takes us and forces us into trials where we have to escape a killer. You don’t always win. When its satisfied with all the bloodshed it lets us rest here in the clearing. I guess its getting bored with its toys and wanted to bring a new factor in, hence… you.” 

Lola stared at her for a long moment, squinting her eyes. She was slack-jawed, thinking nothing and everything at all. Should she start laughing? She felt that strange tugging on the side of her mouth that told her this was a dedicated joke. She released a nervous huff of air, opening her mouth to say something, then abruptly closing it when nothing came to mind. 

She was about to finally put her thoughts into words when she spotted a figure moving through the fog and stiffened. Meg followed her gaze and spotted the figure as they emerged from the thick mist revealing a... boy. Just a teenager. He had loose brown hair and was wearing some sort of sailor uniform? Geez, and Lola thought _she_ had it bad. 

“Damn, Harrington,” Feng snorted in amusement. “What are you wearing?” 

Lola saw the boy flush in embarrassment and anger. “It’s my work uniform. I don’t know how the Entity thought this was a good reward. This seems more like a punishment.” His eyes suddenly wandered to Lola and she saw his lips quirk into a smile. “Well, hello there.” 

She held up her hand. “I know I may look young, kid, but _you’re_ too young for _me._ ” 

Feng chuckled and Meg stepped aside as the teen neared, still smiling though he looked slightly embarrassed to his credit. “Sorry, it’s just been a while since we’ve seen anyone new. Although… if there’s a new survivor…” He sighed in exasperation. 

“Probably a stalker type,” Feng said. 

“Great, just what we needed.” 

“Wait, I’m sorry,” Lola said. “If you’re apparently being chased by killers why isn’t anyone more… you know,” she shrugged. “Panicked? Scared?” 

“Oh, there’s plenty of time for that in the trials,” sailor boy said, placing his hands on his hips and adding a quick fit of nervous laughter. Her eyes kept getting drawn to the boyish blue shorts, or the comedic 60’s style sailor hat that read ‘ _Ahoy!’_ in bubbly blue letters. “I work at an ice cream shop,” he explained. 

Feng finally stood from her place on the log and sauntered over in her red track suit. Granted, even though she was joining the social circle, she still seemed just as uninterested in the conversation as before. “Because they can’t harm us here. The time between trials is when the Entity grants us reprieve. Trials, though? Those fucks can do whatever they want to us.” She absent-mindedly rubbed at her neck as though remembering an old wound. 

Every other word made no sense. Lola was convinced this had to be a joke, or at the very least a horrible trip. Maybe this was an extremely lucid dream she was having, but then how did she wake up? 

“You never told us your name,” Meg said. 

Lola blinked several times, snapping out of her own thoughts. “Lola. Lola Withers.” 

“Steve Harrington,” the boy said, offering his hand. 

Lola accepted the gesture. She had to keep her head for now. She couldn’t panic until she understood the full depth and truth of the situation she was in. She couldn’t allow herself to feel fear until she was safe again. 

“Here it comes,” Meg said, sucking in a deep breath. 

“Oh, fuck no! I just got out of a trial!” 

That had been Steve speaking, but Lola could no longer find him. Fog rolled in out of nowhere and for the first time Lola felt a chill. Its cold fingers wrapped around her body and pulled her into a whirl of grey where time and space did not exist; where even Lola, for a brief moment, was unsure if _she_ existed. 

She finally felt ground beneath her feet again and blinked as the fog started to clear away. It took her brain several heartbeats to register that she wasn’t where she was just seconds ago, though she didn’t recall moving her legs or blacking out. There was the faint glow of a fire, but it did not come from a campfire but a fireplace to her left. The mantle was wood and of old Victorian design. 

“Oh, fuck,” Lola swore, taking in her surroundings. She was in the manor. Marguerite House. She felt her breath hitch and could no longer control the fear that was growing in her chest. “ _Fuck,”_ she repeated. 

She hated this place. Hated everything about this place. The house was partly gutted, her father’s attempts to replace rotting and old beams, add more supports, new insulation, drywall, while still trying to keep the original hints that made it authentic. 

The house wasn’t quite how she remembered it, however. The furniture was covered by large white blankets which had gathered a thick layer of dust. Cobwebs hung in the corners, swaying gently in the breeze allowed in by the broken pane windows. Some portraits were so faded Lola could barely register what they were supposed to depict. 

She hated this house. Hated every fucking inch of it. 

A scream sounded in the distance and Lola felt a chill sweep down her spine. Despite the vastness of the manor and its echo, she could strangely make out almost the precise location it had come from. 

“There you are!” A hand covering Lola’s mouth prevented the scream that erupted from her lungs. “Shh, sorry,” said Steve, bending to emerge into her vision. “I didn’t mean to scare you but I didn’t want you to give away our position.” 

Lola looked at him incredulously and he removed his hand before she swatted it away. He crouched down behind an old velvet couch with her. She could see the old, frayed red fabric peek out from the underside of the cloth. 

“Believe us now?” He breathed peeking over the couch. “Christ, not only is it bad enough your killer is likely a stalker, but an indoors location, too…” He released a breath and shook his head. “Come on, we have to start working on some gens.” 

Lola could find no words as another scream erupted through the corridors. 

“Ah, fuck. He hooked Feng already? This guy is good… Shit. Come on.” 

Steve grabbed Lola’s hand and forced her in tow with him which usually she would object to, but her brain was having difficulty processing everything that was happening around her. Never before had she taken orders so easily, but never before had she dissociated like this. 

“Ah, this looks like something.” 

He rounded the corner into one of the dining rooms where the table had been set for dinner for six. However, the plates were cracked, and the glasses were broken. Some of the chairs were missing and the candles weren’t lit. In the corner, beside the china cupboard was what Lola thought to be a generator. Industrial of some kind, but definitely not belonging. Papa had used generators during his work but nothing as large as this one. 

Steve crouch-ran around the far side of the table and knelt beside the generator, opening the hatch and inspecting the wires. He rubbed his hands together as he took a quick look, then immediately started getting to work. 

Lola, unsure, slowly made her way to the generator, and stared at it. 

“What do I do?” She asked. 

“Just kind of… try,” Steve said. “Instincts will kick in.” 

Lola frowned and stared at the greasy and rusted cogs of the machine. She had never been mechanical in any form of the word and frowned harder as she reached forward with both her hands. He was right though. She had no idea what she was doing, and yet she suddenly found she knew _exactly_ what she was doing. Her nimble fingers fiddled with the cogs and gears of the machine, slowly getting them to work again. It was as though her hands and brain were disconnected somehow. Her hands knew what to do without her mind understanding what exactly she was doing. 

“Fuck,” Lola breathed as she made a mistake and the generator burst in her face, releasing a puff of black smoke that caused her to cough. 

Steve worriedly looked over his shoulder and then immediately went back to work with the wires. “It should be okay. I think they’re distracted with-” 

Lola suddenly felt her heart beat in her chest. It practically pounded against her ribs and she could _hear_ it in her ears. Steve froze and took another look around as Lola put a hand against her chest, wondering if she was about to have a heart attack. 

And then in several moments it was gone. 

Steve released a relieved breath and went back to work and Lola followed suit. After about a minute of fiddling with the damn thing the light above it suddenly came on and all cylinders were pumping smoothly. 

“Phew.” Steve wiped sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. 

“That’s it?” Lola asked. “We can leave now?” 

He laughed nervously. “Afraid not. There’s still four more we have to get done.” 

Right as he said that a ding popped off and Lola heard the faint sound of a generator pumping to life. 

“Or three. I’m going to go save Feng, looks like Meg’s too far.” 

“Okay, I’ll come.” Steve suddenly hesitated and Lola immediately understood. “Right.” 

“It’s not personal,” he said. “Unhooking can be a tricky business if the killer is still around, and we don’t know what he does yet. I don’t want you to get hurt. Being killed in your first trial… it sucks.” 

Lola blinked. “Killed?” She whispered back. 

She could see the sadness in Steve’s eyes at her realization. “Feng doesn’t have much time. Don’t run if you don’t have to. Stay low and quiet, alright?” 

Lola nodded and Steve turned and left the dining room. She watched him until his blue uniform disappeared around a corner and she was left alone. She looked at the generator and decided standing under a spotlight wasn’t the smartest thing if there _was_ someone stalking them. 

She left the dining room, trying to remain silent but her damn heels kept clicking against the wood and slate floors. She kept to carpet when she could, aimlessly wandering around her own home, keeping an eye out for more generators when she took the stairs to the second floor and found the door to her bedroom swung open. 

In an instant, Lola forgot she was in a sick death game. Her mind clouded and her only thought was of that room. She wandered forward, almost as if in a daze and stopped at the archway. The light was off and the curtain was closed, allowing only the smallest amount of moonlight to peek through. 

She felt the wall for the switch but it wasn’t where she remembered it was, and so she fumbled into the room, blind as a mole. She groped the wall, perhaps wondering if she misremembered, but the wall was completely smooth. 

Walking over to the curtains, she wanted to throw them open, but found the moment she reached out her hand, a commanding voice in her head said _No,_ and she brought her hand back to her side without understanding why. 

Lola suddenly gasped. 

_Exposed._

_I’m exposed._

She didn’t know why she felt that way, why _that word_ is what came to her, but she suddenly felt as though she were completely vulnerable. Like she had been caught in the middle of a battlefield with no armour. 

She turned around, taking several steps towards the door when she noticed a figure standing in the frame, blocking her access to the hallway. 

“Found you,” the man whispered. 

Judging by his getup, he wasn’t here to help her. The thing that unsettled her the most about him, somehow more than the bloody knife in his hand, was the mask that covered his face. An abstract, white plastic depiction of someone in screaming in terror, the eyes and mouth holes covered by black mesh to prevent any slips of the identity of the man underneath. 

“It’s you,” Lola breathed. 

She’d recognize that mask anywhere. She knew his voice, his physique. She had never seen his face, but even without the mask she would recognize him anywhere. 

It was the infamous killer in her town. Ghostface. 

“Fuck off,” she hissed. 

The stalker tutted and wagged his finger at her. “That was rather rude. _I_ for one, think it’s exciting to see you again, Lola.” He took several steps forward, but still blocked the exit. For every step he took, Lola took one back until her back pressed against the wall. “For you to see _me,_ again.” 

She looked around for something that could be used as a weapon, but unless she could pick up a whole bed it seemed she didn’t have any choice. 

Lola faced him head on, refusing to give him the satisfaction of her fear. She had to get out of this room, lose him in the corridors and hallways. She knew this house like the back of her hand but… she felt a shiver as she realized he probably did too. 

He raised his knife and suddenly bolted for her. Her eyes flew wide and she tried to duck out of the way but screamed when the knife went slashing across her abdomen, releasing a spray of blood across the carpet. 

“Fuck,” Lola gasped, falling to the floor. She tasted blood in her mouth and felt the tears welling in her eyes. Tears of pain _and_ terror. “ _Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.”_

Above her, the man wiped the blood from his blade, then crouched down beside her. Lola clawed her way forward, nails digging into the wool as she dragged herself towards the door, leaving a vibrant red streak of blood behind her. 

She tried to ignore the pain – gave her mind a focus; _escape_ . Escape the room, escape _him._

There was a shuddering sigh and the man stepped in front of her once more, preventing her exit. “I’ve waited for this for a _very_ long time, Lola.” He crouched down and tilted his head, grabbing her chin and forcing her to look at him. “Please, don’t cry,” he said, wiping away the tears that fell with a bloodied thumb. She flinched at his touch even though she’d dare to call it gentle. “I’ll only hurt you a little bit. We’re going to have forever, Lola.” 

“Fuck you,” Lola spat. He pressed his hand into her abdomen, right where his knife at sliced her skin and she cried out. “Please! Please stop!” 

“There we go,” he said. “Manners gets you everywhere in life.” 

Lola furled her fists, wanting to throw punches, kicking and screaming. She didn’t want to go down without a fight, but the strange energy that had filled her body had suddenly vanished, leaving her exhausted and unable to move. 

“I know you get people asking for your picture a lot, but, you wouldn’t mind, right?” 

He didn’t wait for a response as he pulled out an old-timey camera. One of those ones that printed you a physical copy straight after. She moaned in pain as he propped her into a sitting position and when she almost doubled over he hooked an arm around her waist and sidled up next to her. 

Tears of rage fell from her eyes. How could she allow this to happen to her so easily? She had more fight in her than this. She would _never_ go down this easily. But she was growing weaker. Her lids felt heavy and her head lulled onto the shoulder of her soon-to-be-murderer. 

“I’m going to kill you,” she promised. 

That incited a laugh from the man. A truly giddy laugh that Lola _swore_ sounded familiar, but could not place. “Say cheese!” 

The flash went off and Lola had to close her eyes from the brightness. 

As soon as the photo was taken, he let her collapse to the floor and she groaned. 

“Ah, this! This is a good picture!” He exclaimed, staring at the photo. 

Lola gritted her teeth, shielded her mind from the pain, and started crawling forward again towards the door. She suddenly felt his arm hook around her waist once more, and she screamed as his forearm dug right into her abdomen as he threw her over his shoulder. 

“Sorry, sunflower, can’t have you running off. ‘Gotta please the thing that let me have this, you know?” 

Lola squirmed, hammering her fists against his back as she wiggled all she could, causing him to stumble several times, but his grip remained true. “Fucking psycho!” She screamed at him. 

His knife had hurt when it pierced her flesh, but nothing could prepare her for the feeling of being _impaled._ A guttural scream ripped from her throat as he tossed her onto a meat hook meant for pigs. It jutted through her shoulder and Lola’s eyes went wide in terror and agony. 

“Jesus Christ,” she cried breathlessly. 

“You stay right here,” he said. “I’m going to go finish off your friends, then I’ll come back for you. Stay put, alright?” 

With that the man stalked off, a trail of shadow following him as Lola watched him disappear into the darkness. 

Her body went limp despite the tension coursing through her veins. At the agony emanating from both wounds she had sustained. Jesus… she should be dead. How was she still alive? This was a fucking nightmare. How did she end up in this mess? 

She kept hearing the screams of her teammates going off, and when it became too much, Lola felt a surge of strength overcome her. She whimpered in pain as she raised her arms, gripped the hook, and sprung herself free. She immediately crashed to the ground, gasping and blinded from the pain before she started stumbling forward down the hall. 

More screams sounded from somewhere within the manor as Lola raided a chest and found a medical kit inside. The syringe brought a relief from pain, and the bandages helped staunch the bleeding. It… almost felt as though the wounds were no longer there, but, no. That was impossible. 

She hadn’t made it too far when she suddenly felt a knife stab into her thigh. 

“You’re not very good at listening, are you?” Mused the dark figure standing above her. “ _Come on,”_ he sighed. He picked her up, slinging her over his shoulder again and this time Lola couldn’t find the strength to fight him, either. No one was coming to her rescue, and she didn’t have the energy to save herself. 

She huffed as he suddenly dropped her, and as she looked to her side she realized it was the exit. 

“You’re… you’re letting me go?” Lola asked breathlessly. “No, this is just some sick joke. You’re going to give me the hope of seeing the exit, right?” She asked, bloody mouthed and propping herself up against the brick wall. “And then you’re going to crush that hope.” 

“Nope,” he responded cheerfully. “I’m letting you go.” 

That perplexed Lola and she was sure it was some sort of ruse. “What’s your game?” 

He was on her quicker than she was prepared for, pining her against the wall, his arm pressed against her neck, and felt the sharp sting of his blade as it barely pierced her flesh, drawing out a small bead of blood. 

“I knew it,” she smiled down at him. 

He dropped the knife and cupped her face in his hands. Slowly, he started to wipe away the tears and streaks of mascara that ran down her cheeks, instead smearing them with blood. “This is the second time I’ve saved your life. Your debt is starting to add up,” he whispered. 

She froze at the next touch of his hand. Gentle. A caress on her cheek before his fingers suddenly curled into her hair, whipped her around, and shoved her towards the exit. 

“Just this once, sunflower,” he called out to her as she stumbled forward, past his reach. “Next time I intend to have some fun.” 


	2. The Bittersweet Creation

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” Lola swore as she limped through the fog, running as fast as her wobbling legs would take her. She finally collapsed onto the ground, feeling loose pebbles scraping into her knees as she fisted handfuls of grass, eyes wide and body sweating. “What…” she slowly started, gasping for her breath, “the  _ fuck –  _ was that?” 

Her eyes shot up to no one in particular but found Steve rather easily. In his blue ice - cream uniform he stood out like a sore thumb, even in the dark. 

“Believe us now?” That was Meg. She was massaging her neck as though remembering a phantom wound  Ghostface had most likely given her. “Man, your killer is an ass. I mean, most are, but.”  s he puffed a breath of air. “Stalkers are the worst.” 

“Okay, okay, okay.” Lola slowly stood, closing her eyes and bringing her hands to her head, pacing tiny little circles like a cartoon character as she wracked her brain, painfully processing everything that was happening. “So, this is real. But  _ obviously  _ someone brought us here so we just… leave? Right?” She knew that was too simple, but she couldn’t stop the question as she turned to the group, gawking like a lost toddler. 

“We’ve tried,” Steve said. “Everyone has. Run as far as you can in a straight line and you still end up right back here.” He shook his head. “Nancy ran for… what I can only account for days. She’s the smartest person I’ve ever met and she doesn’t know how to get us out of here, either.” 

Lola took a deep breath to calm herself.  She wasn’t this person. She wasn’t someone who panicked. She was calm. She was calculated. She didn’t show emotion. 

“When I first came here,” she carefully started, looking back to Meg. “You said this was the…  _ Entity’s Realm, _ right?” Meg nodded. “Have any of you seen it? Talked to it?” 

Meg frowned and shook her head. “As far as we’re aware only the killers talk to the thing. It just sometimes leaves us gifts and offerings to let us know its pleased with our work.” 

“Never as pleased as it is with the killers’ work though,” Steve sighed, crossing his arms and leaning back against the wall. “Hey what can you tell us about your man, anyway?”

“My man?” Lola quirked an eyebrow. 

“Yeah, your stalker.” 

Lola suddenly grew uncomfortable and shifted her weight to a dominate leg. She looked away from Steve, not making eye contact with Meg either , and instead stared off into the foggy trees. “He haunted the town I lived in. Roseville,” Lola clarified. “Started killing not too long ago. I dunno, maybe he started somewhere else first. No real rhyme or reason to his victims that police could understand. He stalks them at first – learns everything about them before he kills them.” She tried to shrug casually but her entire body was stiff. “I guess I was his next. Started calling me, sending me pictures, I – I tried telling the police but they’re useless. Plus I’ve always been one to take care of myself. Anyways, I don’t really know what to tell you. Dude’s a standard psycho killer. With a fetish for photos, I guess.” She thinned her lips and bounced on her heels, trying to suffocate the sickly feeling in her stomach.  _ And he saved my life, once,  _ she thought, unable to voice something she didn’t understand. 

She didn’t understand it the first time, either. She thought, after the encounter, perhaps it was a copycat, one of her business rivals trying to scare her into submitting or selling her shares, but after the conversation in the old manor there was no denying that it truly was the  Ghostface that had saved her that night. 

Wondering why had kept her up countless nights. 

“I don’t really know anything about him,” she finally clarified. “Only what the police would share, which wasn’t much because I doubt they knew much themselves.” She finally shrugged one last time, a nasty habit when she was uncomfortable, and sat on the log next to Steve, tightly wrapping her coat around herself. 

“That sucks, man,” said Steve. “My killer is a  D ungeons  a nd  D ragons monster from an up-side-down plain parallel to ours.” 

She raised her eyebrows. “Yeah, that sucks.” 

He said something, but Lola had stopped paying attention. She was staring into the fire, still not entirely convinced this was real. Was this the civilians of Roseville somehow getting back at her?  Could it really be some horrible elaborate joke? It could be feasible if they drugged her, and they certainly hated her enough…

Maybe that’s why the police hadn’t done anything. Maybe they  _ could  _ have, but all collectively agreed it would be better for the town if they let the serial killer get to her. Their problem removed without having to lift a finger. 

In some part of her brain she wondered if she  _ was  _ dead. If this was hell. She felt a shiver run down her spine. Sure, she hadn’t been an angel, but everything she ever did she did to protect her father. Did she deserve hell for something as simple as that? 

“I’m going for a walk,” Lola declared, standing from the log. She needed to clear her head and the only way she knew how to do that was going for hikes. 

“Stay safe.” Maybe Meg meant it sincerely, but it sounded like a sick joke to Lola. “I’ll see you soon. Hopefully before the next trial.” 

Lola didn’t respond. If this  _ was  _ an elaborate and cruel prank, she didn’t recall Steve or Meg or David or Feng from Roseville. No, they weren’t from her town. There was no  _ Ahoy!  _ Ice cream shop and definitely not one with such outlandish work uniforms. 

She padded off into the woods, her arms wrapped around her middle, carefully watching the ground for  roots  and suctioning mud. She found a relatively hard path that wasn’t inherently difficult to walk on that lead deeper into the woods, the orange glow of the campfire fading behind her with every step she took. 

The air, despite lacking in temperature, was crisp and clear in her lungs, allowing her to breathe in deeply and clear her mind. 

Suddenly, it was as though Lola had walked straight into a brick wall. She gasped, or at least tried to, as it caught in her throat when she blinked and looked up at what – no,  _ who  _ she had walked into. 

The man was almost impossibly tall, broad-shouldered, and wore a blue jump suit. Something akin to what one might find a mechanic wearing. A knife was held slack in his left hand and he stared down at her with piercing blue eyes through the eyeholes of a full-face mask with haunting white skin and tufts of fake brown hair. 

Lola stuttered, taking several steps backwards. 

This was Michael Myers – the infamous killer from the late 70’s. She heard they never caught him. Didn’t know if he was alive or dead and the same went for his obsession Laurie Strode. They knew she survived the initial attack, but like her stalker, she up and disappeared one day. 

Continuing to take several steps backwards, Lola continued to try and speak but found her mouth dry. 

Myers made no move towards her, simply stared and watched her until her heel caught a root and Lola fell flat on her ass. She stared up at him gape-mouthed, not even attempting to get to her feet. She was simply waiting for the moment he raised his knife and bloodied it with her insides. 

“Here, let me help you.”

Lola suddenly started as hands wrapped around her chest and hauled her to her feet. She pushed herself out of the grasp of this new invitee and spun on her heel, daringly putting her back to Myers to face her new assailant, instead finding another survivor. 

Laurie Strode. 

She wore high waisted jeans and a blue button-up with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows and the first top buttons left undone. Her hair was a dirty blond, messy yet still stylish in a sense, yet definitely almost forty years out of style. 

So , this is where they went. The Entity took them. 

Yet… did they understand how much time had passed in the real world without them? Was time felt the same here? Had it been minutes or weeks or years since Lola arrived? 

Coming to from her shock, Lola whipped back around to face the silent man holding the knife. 

“Don’t worry,” Laurie’s voice sounded behind her. “The Entity removes all killers’ drive for bloodshed between trials. A chance to give us some reprieve.” 

Lola blinked, looking back and forth between the two. Myers was standing so still that for a brief moment , Lola was convinced it was a very life-like wax figure. But as she listened more closely she realized she could hear the sound of his breathing through his mask. 

“You’re new here, right?” Laurie asked. 

Lola nodded. “Ah, yes…” She still couldn’t bring herself to take her eyes off of one of the worlds most famous serial killers. Finally, she managed to drag her gaze away from the blank stare of the mask to the woman beside her. “I’m Lola. I arrived… Jesus, I don’t know when. A trial ago if that means anything?” 

Laurie wrapped her arm around Lola’s shoulder and nodded her head in the opposite direction. “Come on, let’s go back to the fire.” Lola didn’t miss the almost tentative look Laurie shot over her shoulder. 

Lola half expected the man to follow, but just as she found him, he remained as still as a statue as they walked back through the woods towards the campfire. She cast a look over her shoulder just before the fog swallowed him up. 

“They don’t want to hurt us here?” Lola asked once the orange glow came into view. 

“Between trials the Entity takes away their desire to hurt us. If there’s too much bloodshed when its already  satiated , it gets bored and annoyed,” Laurie shrugged. “It enforces rules to keep things interesting, I suppose.” 

Lola looked over her shoulder once more but there was no sign of Myers. “What… what was he doing all the way out here?” 

Laurie released her shoulder from what Lola now realized had been an iron grip. “They watch us sometimes. They can’t enter the camp, but they like to stay on the outskirts.” 

“That’s… unsettling. Never getting a chance to be alone.” 

“Oh, there’s plenty of chance if you wander off into the woods.” 

“But then you risk running into one of them.” 

“Unfortunately.” 

Lola huffed. 

Feng was at the fire, stoking the flames once more and looked up when Lola and Laurie neared. Lola glanced around, but Meg was gone with no sign of Steve , but there was another woman by the fire strumming an  acoustic guitar.

“Have a fun walk?” Feng quirked an eyebrow. 

“I walk just telling the baby a few of the rules around here. She ran into Michael in the woods.” 

As though suspecting to catch a glimpse of the aforementioned, Feng leaned slightly to look past them into the woods, but didn’t stare too long before she frowned slightly and went back to stoking the fire. 

“Baby?” Lola asked. 

“Sorry,” Laurie said giving her a half-apologetic smile. “It’s what we call the newbies. Killer’s too,” she added casually swinging herself down onto one of the logs. “Like your man. He might be practiced out there in the real world, but things go a little differently here. It’s going to take him some time to get used to how to efficiently please the Entity.” 

“And for  _ us  _ to learn how to efficiently evade  _ him _ ,” Feng added. 

Laurie nodded in agreement. She leaned forward, her elbows on her knees, and gave Lola an intense stare. “What year are you two from?” 

“2019,” Lola answered. “June.” 

Laurie let out a low whistle. “So, its already been that long, huh. Sometimes it feels like its been forever. Sometimes it feels as though no time has passed at all.” 

It unsettled Lola how casually she spoke of forty years of the world passing without her. 

“Shit,” the other woman said as she strummed the wrong string. Without looking up she went back to playing, seeming strangely intent on nailing whatever chord she was trying to make. 

“Making a new song , Kate ?” Feng asked. 

“No. Trying to remember an old one.” 

Lola didn’t want to intrude, but the tune sounded familiar to her as Kate started humming along to the tune, bobbing her wavy blonde hair as she tapped her foot to the beat. Lola sat down between Feng and she, listening just as intensely as the singer. 

It wasn’t that she was so interested in the song, but the thought of psychopaths watching her from the woods, unseen, made Lola nervous. This place had shaken her down to her bones. It had gripped all her courage and crushed it in its invisible fist. 

Her eyes kept scanning the edges of trees, waiting to see unfathomably cruel eyes waiting to slice her throat with a silver knife. 

“ _ … _ _ I wish I knew what to with you. But the truth is, I ain’t got a clue. Do you? Do you?”  _ Lola started to sing. The woman snapped her fingers in victory as her songbird voice joined Lola’s. “ _ I wish I had an idea of what I need. But we, oh we can’t know, and that’s okay.”  _ Lola slowly tapped her foot with the other woman’s as Laurie closed her eyes and leaned back, listening to the song, and Feng grew more occupied in her stoking of the fire. 

“I see Kate pleased the Entity last round,” sounded a new voice, startling Lola out of her trance of peace and comfort.  Kate  kept strumming her guitar, lowering her voice into a lulling hum instead, giving a quick nod of her head in acknowledgment. 

Lola looked up to see David still emerging from the fog, tilting his head and giving his neck and audible crack before he sighed in relief and stretched his back, his dark shirt riding up his abdomen. 

“So,” he said, jutting his chin to Lola. “Looks like we have another songbird. How’d your first trial go?” 

At first Lola wasn’t sure he meant the question sincerely and thought it was just his way of saying ‘ _ hello’,  _ until she realized that he was still waiting on an answer. “Fine,” she said. “I escaped.” 

He let out a low whistle. “Only a few of us managed that. Like Laurie here,” he said, giving her an appreciative nod. Lola didn’t miss the sour look on Laurie’s face. “Surprised the Entity didn’t award you with anything for managing that.” 

“I don’t really care what it has to give me,” Lola sharply responded, still not forgetting the less-than-welcome greeting David had given her. 

“You will once you’ve been here long enough,” Kate said, mindlessly strumming away. “I think I’d go mad without my guitar.” 

“Sometimes I think I’ ll go mad when you  _ do  _ have it,” input Feng. 

Kate scoffed, but something about the way Feng said it had Lola thinking it was a smart comment and not something she meant seriously.  Even if it did  most likely get on her nerves sometimes. Music was something Lola was personally grateful for, but she was trying not to reveal too much about herself yet. Trying and failing miserably. 

Lola remained silent until the fog came rolling in and whisked her away to another trial. 


	3. Like Fallen Trees

She was starting to get a hang of things, as shitty as that was to say. Lola was getting rather good at the trials. What she found she was best at, besides being able to get gens running, was, what the other survivors called ‘ _looping the killer’._ She could keep those bastards distracted for hours if she needed to. The best part was, apparently while she was being chased, the other survivors could see the aura of the killer and properly utilize her distraction to work on gens or get away to heal others. 

It was very rarely that Lola got to do anything else, and so, very rarely did she end up surviving the trial. The killer usually just got so mad with her that he tunneled and camped her while the rest escaped. Only the nicer of the survivors, if Lola was lucky enough to be on a team with them, would stick around to help her escape. 

She liked Nancy and Steve a lot. Those two made a good team and Lola found success of escaping was statistically higher when she was with them. Claudette was good when she fucked up and got hit, and now and then David had taken the killer off her to give her some reprieve and help with other tasks. 

Her first trial encountering Michael went exceptionally poor. For a man who didn’t run, he could move frighteningly quickly. The others had been downed, sacrificed to the Entity, and Lola was only metres away from the hatch when Michael suddenly appeared behind a brick wall and slammed it shut with his foot, leaving Lola simply standing there and accepting defeat. Being sacrificed to the Entity was never pleasurable, but there were worse ways to go. 

When going up against The Huntress, Lola saw her butcher Bill with her hatchet, almost hacking him to pieces. Lola didn’t even want to get started on the supernatural opponents like the Hag or the Spirit. The Oni terrified her. Seeing that _thing_ charge at you from across a clearing was nightmare fuel. Yet no matter how easily she could kite or loop or escape, no matter how grotesque other killers, none still frightened her more than Ghostface. 

His obsession with her, though bordering on flattering, was outright unsettling. The way he stalked her was different from others. He watched her far longer than necessary to expose her and she often caught him taking pictures, exposing himself by the flash his camera gave off, causing Lola to jump in surprise and ditch the generator, booking it into the woods before his knife came across her back. 

Ghostface was the only one Lola couldn’t seem to properly distract or lose. All his stalking had come in handy, for it seemed he knew all her habits and tricks when looping other killers, and how she was never quite as good when going up against him. 

Like how her hands would shake when working on gens, or how her knees felt like jelly when she ran away. How her vaults were never quite as professional and she stumbled her first few paces afterwards. 

He always left her for last, not even bothering to touch her if she was right in front of him; always going for other victims first. Sometimes that played out to her advantage and she was able to get the gate open before he got her, but that usually meant no one else survived and they would all give her shit after, so she spent those trials rescuing the others and wasting precious time she could be working on a generator. 

When it was an exceptionally poor run and all three others went down before Lola could pop off two or even one, he took his time with her. 

The bastard somehow always managed to find the hatch first and Lola would feel the tingle down her spine when he closed it. He never said a word to her, not like the first time he’d seen her, but Lola couldn’t ignore the way his breath shuddered when he stabbed her, or the slight excited tremble of his hands as he wiped her blood from his knife. 

Lola constantly spat an unending stream of curses at him as he hauled her over his shoulder, sometimes getting a little too touchy as she swatted his grabby hands away. Despite how she hated the other killers, she’d give them leeway in the fact the never tried to test the bounds of allowance during the trials. 

She was starting to pray the Entity was a prude. 

When the time came to relish in the feeling of being skewered on a meat hook, despite knowing she was the only one left, Lola always struggled as long as the Entity would allow her to before impaling her on many black spider-like limbs. 

Lola awoke just outside the boundaries of the campfire, cursing as she stretched and tested for any soreness. The lingering pain of being sacrificed was slowly subduing. 

She screamed as someone grabbed her from behind, but her voice was drowned by the hand that clamped over her mouth. The other grabbed her arm and twisted it behind her back at a painful angle, threatening to dislocate or break it if she tried anything funny. 

Lola breathed deeply through her nose, her panic melting into anger as she was roughly dragged deeper into the woods where the trees, fog, and underbrush would hide her from the other survivors who may be looking for her. 

_What an optimistic thought,_ she thought to herself. 

The figure finally released their hand from her mouth but kept their grip on her arm in case she tried to run away. 

“Hey, there, Sunflower,” A voice whispered in her ear. 

Lola’s upper lip curled in disgust. “Didn’t have enough fun in the trial?” She spat. 

Ghostface suddenly released her and Lola stumbled a few steps before abruptly turning to face the psychopath, not daring to keep her back on him for a second longer. 

“Come on,” he said, raising his hands innocently. “You know the Entity takes away our desire to…” his voice trailed off, either staring at her or looking for the right word to say. With the mask it was hard for Lola to tell. “Kill you,” he finally decided on. 

“You’ll excuse me if I don’t want to test that,” Lola snarled. “Not with the way you just twisted my arm in a knot.” 

He shrugged. “It wasn’t to hurt you. Just to stop you running away until I could get you a little farther from your… friends? Are they your friends?” 

“They are,” Lola clarified, a little angrier than necessary. Why was she so determined to prove that to him? She didn’t care a lick of what he thought. 

“They’re just using you; you know. You get chased and soak up all the danger while they sneak around the sides and escape without having to deal with any murderers.” 

“We use each other,” Lola said. 

He pointed his finger at her, almost accusingly. “You see, that’s where I’m not quite convinced. I’ve _seen_ you use people. It doesn’t look like this.” He laughed suddenly and it threw Lola for a loop. “If I was any crazier , I’d say you _want_ these people to like you. But that’s not like you at all, is it?” 

“You don’t know anything about me,” she spat. 

He took several steps towards her then, not quick or even sudden. They were slow and calculated, but it caused Lola’s façade to fade and she took several steps away from him in fear. Mistake. She felt her back suddenly press against the trunk of a tree. Before she could move away he closed the distance between them, his hands gripping her upper arms with the strength of iron. Her breath hitched in her throat and her eyes went wide. 

“I want to know why,” he said in a low voice. 

Lola stared at the black mesh where his eyes would be, breathless. “It’s a life and death game,” she suddenly answered. “If they don’t like me, they leave me to die.” The answer felt shameful to her. The person she thought she was her whole life had crumbled in the short time she’d been in this god-forsaken place. 

He laughed at that, his grip slackening as his back bent and he leaned his head on her shoulder, his body shaking with the giggles. Under any other circumstances of who Ghostface was, she might have liked that laugh. Maybe it would have relaxed her, but instead she went rigid as a pole, his hot breath curling against the exposed skin on her neck. 

“You hate them, and yet you want them to be your friends,” he said when he finally composed himself. 

“I don’t hate-” 

“Oh, _please._ I’ve seen the way you glare at them at the campfires after they leave you behind like they _always_ do. I knew you were willing to do whatever it takes to win, you proved that back in the real world, but _this?_ I never thought you’d stoop so low.” 

Lola tried to push him away from her, but despite his relaxed stance, his grip on her was still like steel, and only tightened when she struggled. She swallowed, her throat suddenly feeling dry. “Why am I amusing you, anyways?” She hissed, putting up her brave front. “I’m tired of talking to you.” 

“Fine, fine, fine,” Ghostface said, raising his hands. Lola slouched suddenly from the lack of his strength holding her up. “I’ll stop egging you on.” She turned away from him, but he grabbed her arm, noticeably softer than before. “That didn’t mean you could go, though.” 

Lola bared her teeth at him then, an instinct kicking in that she never had in the trials, threw a punch right for him. He had the common curtesy to be surprised by it and barely ducked out of the way in enough time before he grabbed her from behind and pinned her against a tree. 

She struggled and kicked but he pressed harder against her, knocking the air from her lungs. “Hey now,” he whispered in her ear. “I didn’t know you liked it so rough.” 

Lola grunted at him, finally giving up when she needed an intake of air, but it was his mistake to think she was done struggling for good. She whipped back around, diving for him, tackling Ghostface to the ground as she raised her fists to bring down on him. He met her fists with his palms, wrapping his gloved fingers around her hands, and, in a battle of balance, finally threw her off. 

Refusing to let go, Lola used his own grip to yank him towards her, straight into her propped knee where he released a hiss as the air left his lungs and she felt a sweet stinge of satisfaction when he doubled over slightly. But he was used to confrontation and Lola was not. He quickly wrestled her back down, grumbling something about how ‘this was so much harder when the Entity wouldn’t let him hurt her’, and finally pinned her wrists to the ground, his legs straddling her waist. 

In some form of triumph, Lola was pleased to see he was at least breathless, but her victory caught in her throat when she realized his mask was askew, revealing only a hint of his face. Thin lips, a sharp jaw and pale skin was all she saw before he released one of her wrists and fixed his mask back into place. 

“Jesus Christ, woman,” he breathed, grabbing her wrist once more. He breathed in a deep lungful of air and huffed, releasing it in a minor chuckle. “I knew you were fun, but I didn’t realize _how_ fun you would be.” 

Lola did her best to ignore the compromising situation she was in and hoped he would mistake the flush in her cheeks for anger. “Who are you?” She demanded in attempt to divert his attention. 

“Tsk, tsk.” He clicked his tongue. “I can’t tell you yet. We have to build the…” he trailed off again and Lola had the sinking suspicion it _wasn’t_ because he was looking for the word. She could practically feel his eyes roaming her body. “…anticipation.” 

She swallowed, not daring to move, her heartbeat in her throat before his fingers suddenly unwound from her wrists. She squeezed her eyes shut, dreading the moment she found them roaming elsewhere, but opened them in surprise when she found his weight lift from her waist. 

He held out his hand to help her up. 

Perhaps it was shock that had her accepting his help and his hand linked with hers and hauled her up to her feet, staring at him wide-eyed. She blinked several times and then immediately went to work busying herself by brushing off dirt and dead leaves from her clothing. 

“Oh, _please,”_ he snarked. “I’m a gentleman.” 

“I don’t think a gentleman stalks people,” Lola snapped back. “Or kills people.” 

He chuckled again, shoving his hand into a pocket Lola didn’t know existed and pulled out a camera. “Can I get a pic? For the scrapbook?” 

“Oh?” Lola quirked an eyebrow. “You’re asking for my consent, now?” 

Apparently not as he hooked an arm around her shoulder and drew her into his chest. “I never get one of us together. Seems like a shame.” 

Lola was flustered. Trying to curse at him but mumbling incoherently instead. 

“You’re so cute when you get shy.” 

Before Lola could protest the flash of the camera went off and Ghostface brought the camera closer but did not release his hold on her. Her senses were overwhelmed with the scent of sweat, leather, and men’s cologne. 

“Ah,” he said. “This is a good photo.” 

“You say that every time,” Lola snarked. 

“Not every time, but it’s hard to take a _bad_ photo when _you’re_ in it.” 

Lola pushed herself away from his chest and sarcastically bat her eyelashes. “I’d be flattered, you know, if you weren’t a _murderer._ ” 

He shrugged. “We all have our flaws. Like you, you’re a _horrid_ dancer.” 

“I don’t dance,” she suddenly protested. 

“Not when you think people are watching. But when you’re drunk and alone in your kitchen?” Lola swore he winked at her through his mask. 

Lola started stomping away, feeling the heat rising to her cheeks. “Fucking pervert.” 

“Hey, Lola, wait.” His saying of her name surprised her to the point where she actually stopped and turned to look back at him as he shoved the camera back into his pocket. “Meet me back here, ‘kay?” 

She stared at him, visibly perplexed. “Why on _earth_ would I do that?” 

“Hmm…” he tapped the mouth of his mask, pretending to look thoughtful. “You’ll get bored of your, quote on quote, ‘friends’,” he said, even adding air quotations for effect. “You’ll want some real conversation, and I’m offering.” 

“I would rather eat my own foot.” 

“I could have Leatherface arrange that.” 

Lola baby barfed in her mouth. If there was one thing she was grateful for, it was that the Entity didn’t leave their bodies behind after the trials. She hated to imagine what some killers would do with them afterwards. 

“Although from what I understand, he thinks cannibalism is some big secret he doesn’t want anyone else finding out about. Guy thinks we’ll all be cannibals if we get a taste of that sweet, sweet human flesh.” 

Lola turned away, feeling green. “Jesus, where did I go wrong in my life to end up here?” 

“I think you know _exactly_ where you went wrong.” 

His words caused Lola to freeze as she turned and looked at him wide-eyed. She wasn’t insulted or offended, no, simply shocked. She knew she shouldn’t have been. The creep seemed to know every detail about her, so no surprise he’d know about one of the biggest choices she’d ever made. The choice the finally branded her an outcast. 

“Are you…?” 

“Am I _him?_ ” Asked Ghostface. “Funny, but no. I’m not Simon.” 

Lola slowly nodded and turned away. “That’s good, at least,” she said quietly, and padded back towards the campfire, her arms hugged tightly around herself. 


	4. Heart of Glass, Mind of Stone

For the longest time, there hadn’t been a day when Lola didn’t think about that night. The town outsider, given a chance to be welcomed by the town, brutally shut down without any reason to give. 

She was a prodigy at figure skating. She had won several championships and her agent was talking about the Olympics next. Lola truly didn’t care if she won or not, figure skating was just something she loved doing. She loved the hard work, the balance and grace of it. It was art one expressed with their body instead of paints. And the money it brought in certainly helped her father keep his land. 

While Lola went about travelling the country, her father stayed home and kept hard at work on his farm, slowly losing it to the banks buying up all the land. When her agent had her return to Roseville for practice before the next tournament, Lola branded herself an outcast of the town by buying up all the property around the farm. In her mind it was to protect her father, in the city’s mind she was using her fame and money to take over. 

Her friend, Simon, was the real money behind the operation. His family practically owned the town until he gave Lola a loan and she swept in, buying up everything his family hadn’t already gotten their fingers into. She was encroaching on their territory and Simon’s father had a deep hatred for her. 

She supposed that’s where it started. A small loan invested correctly and used to raise her own fortunes. Lola had paid back Simon’s loan, double, of course, though he at first refused to accept it, Lola could never be comfortable knowing she was in debt. 

They called her a gold-digger at first. They thought she was only dating Simon to grab at  m ore of his money even though she had already been swimming in her own. Though she offered all of it to her father, he was content with simply having a happy and clean farm, though Lola had convinced him to invest in a fixer-upper mansion on the outskirts of town. 

Real trouble started when she accidentally became rivals with the town’s pride and joy; Silvia. She had already been to the Olympics, had already won bronze, and both of them couldn’t go. Lola had no desire to go to the Olympics, but she couldn’t ignore the opportunities it would grant her, and the town hyped up for the tournament that would decide between the two of them. It had been in the Roseville papers, covered by a journalist named Jed Olsen, who managed to paint her in a flattering light despite the whole town hating her guts. 

It only worsened after the... accident. 

Lola and Simon had been star-crossed lovers. The  modern-day Romeo and Juliet, and, yes,  tragedy was involved. His family hated her, the town hated her, and he was the only one who loved her. The killings started around that time, now that she thought about it, but it had never troubled or worried her. 

He was deeply in love with her, and Lola wanted to say she was the same. She was happy when she was with him, but when he got on his knees in the middle of a party, his family around them and her father in the corner, staring at her with a joyful glint in his old eyes, Lola froze. 

She could have said  _ yes.  _ She  _ should  _ have said yes. Instead, she stared  gape mouthed as fear welled inside her chest. Why did she fear this? Didn’t she deserve this? Her best friend in the world  who loved her dearly. Whom  _ she  _ loved dearly. 

Lola had set down her glass of champaign and run out of the room as fast as one could in heels. The woman who owned the town, running away from a man on his knees in fear. Si m on chased her out. 

_ Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? _ __ _ Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? _ __ _ Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?  _

_ Why  _ had he followed her? To convince her? To ask  _ why?  _

She was afraid. That was why. 

After years of being hounded by Roseville citizens, of being branded an outcast, a gold-digger, an unwanted stranger, Lola started to believe them. She didn’t deserve his love or his money or  _ him.  _

Simon chased her across the street, failing to notice the bus speeding down the road. 

What was left of him was unrecognizable. A smear of gore on the pavement. 

Lola had wanted to scream but it was caught in her throat. Hands slowly raised to cover her mouth as tears quietly streamed down her cheeks. The scream she couldn’t voice sounded from the other side of the road as his mother crumbled into her husband’s arms. 

The bus squealed to an abrupt halt as the crowd from both the party and the bus slowly gathered around what used to be the light of Lola’s life. 

Perhaps if she hadn’t insisted the bus driver was innocent, Simon’s mother wouldn’t have hated her so vehemently. Some branded her  _ murderer.  _ She planned this, some said. In a stupid outburst she questioned them on why she wouldn’t kill him  _ after  _ she inherited his fortune?  _ That  _ didn’t go over well. 

The next months went by in a blur, but also painfully slow. Days staring out an open window in the middle of winter, catching her own death. Waking up sleepwalking, finding herself walking barefoot through snowy fields. To forget the pain, Lola threw herself back into her work. She hardened her heart and embraced being the heartless outsider. She made sure, that no matter what happened to her, her father ’ s land would be protected for generations to come. 

Then the stalking started, and all the problems with Simon’s mother. 

“I’m glad you decided to come out to the house today,” her father said, wearing jean overalls and an old t-shirt covered in paint and plaster. There was a half-empty paint can beside his beige steel-toed work boots, and Lola smiled as she bent over to pick up a paintbrush. 

“This is our project, right?” She questioned, also internally questioning his choice of paint. But with her months’ long absence and complete silence, she wasn’t going to chide her father on keeping himself busy. 

He smiled. “Though I’m wondering if we should have started with something a little smaller than a whole manor.” 

“What?” Lola asked, playfully arching a brow. “Not up to the test, papa?” 

She rolled the brush along the wall, careful to spread the paint evenly, knowing how it would bother her father if she did it wrong, and the last thing she needed was him insisting he could do it alone. He was getting old, after all, and Lola didn’t want a family project to be the cause of stress and hardships. 

“Your mother would have thought this house beautiful, Lola.” 

Lola nodded. 

“Lola? Lola…” 

Lola continued to paint. 

“Lola? Lola!” She suddenly snapped out of her daze, shaking her head and looking up at Adam who was snapping his fingers in front of her face, frowning slightly. “You doing alright there?” 

She blinked several times, took a deep breath, and then nodded. “Yeah, sorry. I was just thinking about something.” 

Adam sat down on the hale bale beside her, looking concerned. “How have you been feeling lately?” 

Lola liked Adam. He was one of the more caring companions she shared. Years of isolation from an entire town had left her lonely, and she hated how much she wanted companionship fro m anyone offering it. Did that make her weak? 

“I’m fine,” Lola answered. 

“Look, I know this is stressful-”

Lola abruptly stood. “I said I’m fine!” She didn’t miss  Nea roll her eyes , and Lola felt her shields go up again.  _ Don’t let yourself feel or care,  _ she reminded herself.  _ No good ever comes of it.  _

Lola threw herself headfirst into the next few trials. She needed to alleviate her anger, and without pissing off every single companion she had, the only way she could do that was by pissing off the killers until they grabbed her and threw her on a meat hook. She was far more reckless than before and the other survivors noticed, taking less chances to help her, and Lola didn’t exactly blame them. 

She knew her isolation was her fault. After Roseville she promised herself never to care again but her heart kept betraying her. She had kindness and gentleness in her, she  _ knew  _ she did. Simon showed her that she did, so why did it always refuse to show itself? 

Why, when she needed to show it most, did it wither and die inside of her, leaving only her icy exterior exposed? She was shutting everyone down.  _ She  _ was shutting down. This place was doing it to her. How could she be kind when everything around her was cruel? 

Stupid excuse. Nancy was still kind – there were others who were still kind. But that’s what Lola did. Look for excuses. Always excuses. But she was strong this way, wasn’t she? People who weren’t close to her couldn’t get hurt. 

_ One problem at a time.  _ She still had Michael on her tail. Despite performing relatively well this trial, she couldn’t quite shake him, and when he did get distracted by other survivors, he knew to ignore Lola until he hooked the other problems. 

He was catching on that she was nothing more than a distraction, yet also knew not to let her sneak away to repair generators, putting her in a very frustrating situation as she body-blocked to allow others to escape the hooks. 

Pain was something she was getting frighteningly accustomed to. Her hands were slick with her own blood and she was holding a deep gash on her shoulder, giving herself a brief moment of reprieve where she hid behind a boulder and mended herself to staunch the bleeding. 

She heard a scream as Bill went down and cursed, quickly pulling on the knot with her teeth and vaulting back over the railing, hoping to get Michael’s attention. The last  gen popped as she raised her flashlight, blinding Michael and giving Bill a chance to run in the direction of one of the gates. Lola caught a glimpse of Nancy rush to Bill’s medical aid, and Feng farther back going for the gate latch. 

Lola raised her flashlight again, taking a deep breath. “This way…” she said under her breath, switching it off and running in the opposite direction. 

He realized what she was trying to do, however, and turned away from her, heading towards the three would-be escapees. 

“Shit.” 

Lola sprinted past Michael,  dropping a pallet in just enough time  to stun him and for Nancy to finish healing bill. 

“Nice drop, Lola,” Nancy yelled as she ran past. Bill gave her a thumb’s up. 

Michael regained himself and beelined it for the gate. Lola sprinted once more, body blocking Feng in just enough time for her to get the gate open. Lola screamed at the pain, looping around while Michael went after Feng, a little too late as the three of them escaped past his bounds, the Entity’s arms reaching up to block his way. 

He made a little frustrated noise as he paced several times, Lola taking those precious moments to sneak away to the direction of the other gate whilst keeping her eye out for the hatch, though she never had much luck with that thing. 

She crouched by a stack of hay as her heartbeat became more intense and tried to muffle her sobs of pain. Michael had gotten her good, reopening the wound she had managed to bind earlier. If this were the real world, she would have surely bled out by now. 

While waiting for Michael to pass, Lola rummaged through Nancy’s  medkit , which she had dropped for Lola, but found most of its contents had already been used in her attempt to heal Bill. Lola cursed under her breath and threw the  medkit away .

She dared to peak over the  haybale as her heartbeat settled, but a chill suddenly swept down her spine and she spun on her heel to find Michael standing directly behind her, bloody knife in hand and blocking her only exit. 

_ Shit,  _ she realized,  _ I fucking trapped myself.  _

He slowly started advancing towards her. 

Lola ran through several possibilities in her mind of how she could get herself out of this situation. She could only take one more hit before she went down so rushing him head on wasn’t a good idea, unless she could manage to skirt him and dodge his knife, but that was also tricky. 

Then a thought occurred to her. 

A horrible, stupid thought born of pure desperation. 

“Mr. Michael!” She shouted at him. “Watch this!” 

Lola started dancing. 

She wasn’t exactly sure what she was doing. As  Ghostface had said earlier, she was an abhorrent dancer, but she was hoping the lack of skill she had would grant her some pity from the killer or distract him long enough to book it out of there. Yet despite her lack of skill, Lola still had confidence as she busted her moves . 

“ Y eah, you into that?” She questioned. “This is really popular with the women.” 

Micha e l tilted his head at her. She swore she could see his eyes squinting at her. 

“Let me go and I’ll teach you these sweet, sweet dance moves.”  She screamed as his knife suddenly came down on her. “Ar gh ! Fuck!” She dropped to the ground, blood splattering the wall beside her in a brilliant fan of red. She ground as he hooked her over his shoulder. “I was really hoping that would work…” She mumbled. 

Lola didn’t bother wiggling  out of his grasp. She knew she had lost and she couldn’t spare the energy for it, not after her dance had been rejected so harshly. 

As they neared the hook, Lola squeezed her eyes shut and in took a deep breath of air, preparing herself for the pain that was to follow. 

It didn’t come. 

Lola watched the hook slowly recede and then noticed Michael was headed for the killer’s shack. Ah. That made sense. If she wasn’t going to struggle may as well gain extra favour from the Entity, right? He had to do  _ something  _ after letting three others escape, she guessed. 

Yet Michael didn’t go for the stairs, he did a quick walk around the shack and its perimeter, and then started off in other direction, glancing this way and that, checking behind broken walls and  haybales and dead ends, all the while holding Lola over his shoulder. She had to admit he was a strong motherfucker with nice broad shoulders. 

She smirked at the idea of  Ghostface having a fit if he knew  she thought  that. 

Lola was curious as to Michael’s intentions, but was content enough to let it play out and just hung there as he made his way around the farm. She grew so accustomed to it that it was a genuine shock when he finally dropped her like a sack of potatoes, and Lola heard familiar whispers that promised sweet escape. 

She sat there for a moment, unsure if he intended to close it in her face as he had done so many times before. 

He stared at her. 

She stared back. 

Lola couldn’t see him blink so she wasn’t sure if she was winning. 

He gestured with his knife to the hatch. 

“You’re letting me go?” Lola suddenly exclaimed in complete shock. 

He didn’t nod or… anything really. He just continued to stand there.  Michael even backed up a few paces and continued to stare, his knife held slackly at his side. 

“Oh, shit,” Lola blinked, crawling towards the exit, still unsure if he meant to close it in her face. “I guess my dancing paid off after all, then.” 

Michael shook his head. 

“Man, that was as hurtful as a knife.” Lola, with extreme effort, hooked her fingers around the edge of the hatch and hauled herself forward. Before she took the plunge into the comforting, depthless dark, she hesitated and looked to the killer. “Thanks, Michael.” And with that, she plunged over the edge. 

Lola tumbled through the dark for what felt like an eternity, yet what also felt like no time at all, until a sudden dizzy spell finally cleared and she found herself sitting in the grass just outside the bounds of the camp. Not wanting another surprise visit, Lola quickly trotted into the safety of the fire’s perimeter and stretched. 

“And she got out unscathed after all,” Bill said, giving a quick puff to his cigar.  “How’d you do it?” 

Lola was going to tell the truth but stopped herself just before she sounded any words. She thought it would resolve in one of two situations, either A: they would never take her seriously again, or B:  they would resent her for… what exactly? Coveting the favour of a killer?

“I found the hatch,” she decided, which wasn’t a lie. 

Bill puffed his cigar again. “Well, keep up the hard wor k and maybe the Entity will reward you soon . Oh , for Christ’s s-” Bill had no chance to finish his swear as the fog rolled in, enveloping him and whisking him away as though he had never been there to begin with. 

Lola couldn’t say she minded being alone. She enjoyed the silence, listening to just the crackling of the fire. With so many survivors it was a Hail Mary to get any time alone, but Lola also couldn’t ignore the chill down her spine knowing there was at least one killer hiding in the woods spying on her at any time. 

Thankfully Lola spotted Laurie making her way back to the campfire, a bundle of flowers and offerings in her hands as she sat in front of Lola and carefully spread out the different herbs, tying the  amaranth with a small spindle of hemp rope. 

“Nice haul,” Lola commented. 

Laurie nodded , separating accidental pickings the Entity wouldn’t care for from the flowers of actual value. “It must be pleased. Been offerings popping up all over the place lately.  “ Here-” Laurie turned, holding out her hand for Lola and she accepted. 

Lola turned her hand over, finding a small ivory pouch in her palm. When she pulled on the small draw-strings she found it was filled with crushed chalk. 

“I noticed you get left on the hook a lot,” Laurie commented. “Figured this would help.” 

Lola couldn’t help but smile.  It was the first bit of kindness she’d received outside of a trial, when others weren’t rewarded by the Entity for their altruism. This was something Laurie was actually giving up. For  _ her.  _

“Thanks,” said Lola. “It means a lot.” 

“Yeah well, I can’t forget that time you saved my ass from the Legion.” 

Lola smirked, remembering when she dropped a pallet on the head of the one called  _ Frank,  _ just before Laurie got hooked. He spewed a string of curses as he stumbled, Felix popping open the gate, and all four of them escaping before he even fully regained himself. 

She suddenly frowned, however, her mind drifting back to the first time she met Laurie. Lola quickly looked around the campfire, making sure that no one else was around . “Hey… Laurie…” She carefully started. “The other night, out in the woods… were you… meeting Michael?” 

Laurie snapped a twig in half. On purpose? If she hadn’t meant  to, she covered it up by purposefully snapping several more and tying them together.  Her prolonged silence confirmed Lola’s suspicions without her having to say anything. Finally, Laurie set her offerings down and looked at Lola, her eyes scarily intense. 

Lola had never backed away from a show of dominance, but this was different. Among her determination, Lola could see  _ fear  _ in her eyes. 

“Are you going to tell the others?” Laurie asked. 

Lola blinked in surprise. “What? Of course not!” 

Laurie stared at her for a long few moments, as though she didn’t believe her, but then finally dropped her gaze and nodded. “I appreciate it.” And went by to bundling her offerings of bog laurel. 

“Can I… ask you a question?” 

“I suppose.” 

“Why do you do it?” 

Laurie offered a half-hearted shrug. “I don’t know. After being here for so long… As fucked up as it is, he’s the only person from… before.  It’s nice to have a reminder of something before this fucked up place. Even… if that something is a murderer hellbent on killing you.” 

“He lets you go a lot,” Lola observed. 

Laurie didn’t respond to that. 

“He let me go last trial.” Laurie cast her a quick glance. “I think he felt pity for me after I tried to dance for him.” 

Laughing, Laurie finally gave up on her task and leaned against the log. “I’m sorry? You did what?” 

“He had me cornered,” Lola said, smiling. “I had nowhere to go so I pulled out my trump card.  Horrible, horrible dance moves to make even the most cold-hearted killer draw pity upon you. He downed me then carried me to the hatch.” 

“Well, I’ll thank him next time I see him,” Laurie winked. 

Lola tilted her head, resting her chin on her palm. “I can’t imagine he invites much conversation.” 

“We just… sit, mostly,” said Laurie. “You don’t need to talk. Sometimes…  _ sometimes  _ he’ll say something. You know… when we first came here, I couldn’t imagine anything I hated more than him. I wanted to strangle him with his own entrails. I’d imagine hooking him, feeding him to the Entity, gutting him alive . Sometimes I still do,” she winked. “But… I don’t know. It faded. Maybe it’s this place. It messes with your head. ” 

“Maybe being killed over and over loses its touch?” Lola quirked. 

Laurie sighed, leaning her head back. “I’m probably crazy. Spending quality time with the man who tried to murder me – still does. ” 

Lola shrugged. “I think he’d be sweet if he wasn’t a psychopath.” 

“You could say that about literally anyone.” 

“Even the Clown?”

Laurie faked a gag. “Okay, maybe not  _ anyone. _ So , what about you? What do you miss from your life before all of this bullshit?” 

Lola thought about it. She shouldn’t have had to think about it, and even then, after a long several heartbeats of silence, Lola came up short. “The sun, I guess.  Wine, definitely. I definitely miss wine. What I wouldn’t give to have a bottle. Hell, in this place I’d settle for quantity over quality and get a box, you know?” 

The person Lola would now dare to call her friend chuckled.  “Yeah. Wine – a smoke. The Entity hasn’t gifted you anything yet, right?” 

Lola shook her head. “Just some offerings. Guess it wants me more around the board before its satisfied with my performance.” She shrugged. “But with looping killers I don’t really get the chance.” 

Nodding in understanding, and with a small huff, Laurie pushed herself to sit on the log beside Lola , her arms hanging off her knees. “Trying to find a balance can be a bitch, especially with a perk like yours. Others might think that’s all you’re good for, but you got other talents, too. You just need a chance to show your value in other situations.” 

“Yeah,” Lola agreed. “Though I will admit nothing quite beats the satisfaction of  frustrating a killer that can’t catch you.” 

“Just be careful with that,” Laurie warned. “Some of them can be vengeful. Like Legion for instance.”

Lola nodded in agreement, remembering one trial where Lola looped Susie for so long she went in a rage and tunnelled and camped her  until the trial was over – not even bothering to hook her but letting her bleed out while she slashed her knife at empty air and grumbled incoherently. Her teammates had no choice but to leave her behind as Susie would not turn her back even once the gates popped open.

“Oh,” Laurie suddenly breathed. “Here we go,” she voiced. Lola looked up to see the thick rolling in from the trees. “Good luck.” 


End file.
